


The World Spins Madly On

by Orianess



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Amputee!Mac, Depression, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, James MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016) Being an Asshole, M/M, Non-Graphic Suicide Attempt, PTSD, Rating for mature themes and graphic depiction of injury, beware the tags I’m serious take care of yourself, happyish ending, recovering from traumatic injury, self worth issues, suicide ideation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:48:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23286553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orianess/pseuds/Orianess
Summary: Life’s a bitch and then you die, but sometimes, it just keeps going.After a bomb-disarming goes wrong, Mac must learn how to live with the pain of losing an arm. Jack is going to take care of him the best he can, but will it be enough to keep Mac hanging on?
Relationships: Jack Dalton/Angus MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016)
Comments: 54
Kudos: 82





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [impossiblepluto](https://archiveofourown.org/users/impossiblepluto/gifts).



> Once upon a time, me and impossiblepluto were talking whump stuff, and I said I wanted to do this story and she has been my cheerleader for the process. Hope you enjoy the story lovely. ❤️
> 
> This story is as close to a realistic look as what I think it would look like for someone like Mac to recover from an amputation. It’s will be dark at times but I think ultimately the end will be worth while.
> 
> The title is from the song “Thought of You” by Ryan Woodward which is been the inspiration soundtrack while I worked on this.

You know those days that change your life? The kind of day that blows apart your whole world and makes you start over, makes you rebuild your life one hard earned day at a time. When you look back you’ll try to figure out how it happened, why it happened. You’ll ask yourself what was different but the truth is it won’t matter.

It comes out of nowhere. It can be a normal routine sort of day. Just an unassuming Tuesday morning then boom. 

That’s exactly how it happens to them.

Jack is helping Riley and Bozer as they work to clear out a building under a bomb threat. The building is pretty much clear, they’re checking for stragglers. Mac is working his fastest to disarm it on the floor above them. They can all hear the usual whisper soft chatter on the other end of their comms that lets them know Mac’s working his magic. It’s all pretty standard for them by now. 

Maybe that’s why it happens, Jack will think later, they got complacent. They were all so used to how efficient Mac is that they forgot (Jack forgot) sometimes he won’t back down when common sense says he should. Mac has a completely lacking sense of self preservation that tends to get him in trouble. That’s why he has Jack. Jack is supposed to look out for him in situations like this. When he looks back on it, this is the moment he knew his mistake, and Mac paid dearly for it.

Jack’s blood turns to ice when Mac’s voice crackles over the comm with furious intensity. 

“Son of a bitch.”

“Mac?” Riley asks as she and Jack share a worried glance across the room. Jack motions at her and Bozer to go even as Mac’s voice bursts breathless over the line.

“There’s a- I don’t have enough time. You have to go! Get out! Now!” 

Jack heads full speed for the stairwell closest to where Mac would be. “I’m comin’ Mac!”

“Don’t!” Mac shouts back, “run! I’m-!”

The explosion rocks the building and knocks Jack off his feet. When he gets his bearings enough to stand the acrid smell of fire and smoke are already filtering down to him from the floor above. He screams for Mac and runs, tells himself Mac got far enough away, refuses to believe in any other option.

He hits the stairwell Mac would have been running for and his heart shatters in his chest when he sees him. Mac is collapsed at the bottom of the stairs closest to him, smoldering debris covering and pinning him to the floor. Jack figures he must have been thrown clear of the worst of flames by the shockwave as he hit the stairs but got knocked down by the debris as it fell in.

The minute it takes him to dig Mac out may be the longest time he’s ever spent on earth, unable to check Mac for a pulse because he has to clear a path to pull him free. Once Jack has him freed he puts a shaking hand to his throat, feels a rapid pulse and waits no longer before he throws Mac over his shoulder and runs down the stairs for all he’s worth. 

He couldn’t tell you how he navigates the smoke filled halls to the parking lot out where he’s met by Riley and Bozer, he’s in survival mode. All he could think about was to get outside and now that he’s here, all he can think about is needing to check on Mac.

And that’s when he sees it.

Mac got more than a little hurt by the blast.

He’s burned, pretty seriously in some places from what Jack can process in his panic stricken mind. His left arm is burned so badly it’s heavily bleeding, torn from the shrapnel that had blasted him down the stairs, twisted-broken and angled in ways it shouldn’t be. Jack’s brain switches gears and he yanks his belt off to use for a tourniquet.

“Riley, is Fire and Medical on their way?” Jack asks as he tries to carefully lay Mac out so he can triage him. When he doesn’t get a response he looks up to see Riley and Bozer staring down at him in dumbstruck horror, rendered unresponsive in the face of Mac’s injuries. He grabs Riley’s leg as she’s closest and snaps, “hey! Don’t freak out on me yet I need your help!”

That jars the two younger agents into moving and Riley calls in to double check the status of the rescue units they had requested.

“Five minutes out.” She says as they kneel down, their hands fluttering over Mac in a helpless search for how to help. Jack nods and tries to steel himself as he loops his belt under and around Mac’s twisted injured limb. He tightens the belt just above the elbow and Mac jerks to consciousness with a strangled scream. 

Bozer catches Mac’s head as he starts to flail and Riley presses down on his stomach to try to still him. Jack does his level best not to puke when the blackened skin on his arm cracks and oozes more sluggish blood.

“Mac hey! It’s us Mac, easy!” Jack tries, but Mac isn’t aware enough to process them, he’s on pure fighting instinct in the wake of his agony and he wails when it causes him more harm. Riley is silently crying as she continues to press down on Mac’s abdomen in a firm attempt to keep him in one place. Bozer looks terrified and Jack knows exactly how he feels but he tries to stay calm.

“My arm!” Mac screeches and throws his good arm out in an attempt to move away but Jack catches him, grabs him by the face so that maybe Mac will see him.

“Mac look at me!” Jack demands and Mac does but his eyes are so wide and feral Jack doubts he can actually comprehend.

“Jack!” He gasps, “my arm it’s-!” He groans and the sound crescendos into another scream. Jack nods and taps Mac’s cheek frantically, trying to get him to focus.

“I know man, I know- no don’t look at it look at me!” He commands when Mac attempts to lift the arm into view. Mac’s terrified eyes search Jack’s for a moment, trying to fight for focus through the pain but it’s too much. Mac makes a vague mumbling ask for help before his eyes roll back as he slumps boneless into the arms of his team.

Jack doesn’t bother trying to wake Mac up, can’t imagine bringing him around just to wait through the pain till help arrives. Sirens and lights signal help arriving and Jack’s never been so grateful to hand Mac over to someone else, someone who can actually help.

—-

It’s hours later after their arrival at hospital before they hear anything. 

Mac had been taken away the second they made the door and Jack had been sentenced to an OR waiting room to shakily scrawl information into standard check in paperwork. Riley and Bozer had found him within an hour of his arrival, having stayed to answer questions of the local police and fire crews that had controlled the scene of the explosion. They’re alone in the waiting area but they wait together as a team, all silent as they pray for some sort of good news to be forth coming.

When a doctor finally comes along, his expression is so forlorn Jack expects to hear his own heart flatline.

“MacGyver?” The doctor calls and they’re all up in the same beat. “Family?” 

Jack nods quietly, “All the family he has.”

The doctor sighs and clasps his hands in front of him. “I’m Doctor Jared Ackerman, the surgeon assigned for Mr MacGyver’s case. As I’m sure you know, his injuries were very serious. There was a lot of damage from the blast, quaternary and tertiary injuries-“

“Doctor please.” Jack interrupts. “Is he alive?”

The doctor dips his head slowly, reluctant. “Yes...”

“But?” Jack presses when the doctor hesitates for a moment. Doctor Jared squares his shoulders for a moment and takes a breath.

“We expect Mr. MacGyver to pull through but his condition is still critical. He suffered a grade two concussion and he’s being closely monitored for swelling of the brain and possible abdominal bleeding. He has second and third degree burns at twenty percent of his body, the worst of it on his left leg. However, his left his arm I’m afraid, was traumatically worse and we were forced to perform a transradial amputation, an amputation below the elbow. I’m very sorry.”

Jack can barely breathe and when he looks to Riley and Bozer beside him he can see the same shocked grief he feels in their faces. “His arm was amputated...?” He whispers and chokes as he struggles to reconcile the mental image of laughing unstoppable independent Mac with the image of what a missing forearm looks like.

“Yes,” the doctor says gently. “he’s being moved to the ICU’s burn ward now. I’ll have the nurse come collect you so you can see him once he’s settled. Again, I’m very sorry.”

Jack nods at the doctor and manages to stick his hand out to him. He’s fighting back tears for Mac’s loss, can barely talk around the lump in his throat, but the man saved Mac’s life and he’s beyond grateful. “He’s alive because of you. Thank you.” The doctor dips his head in solemn acknowledgment as he shakes his hand before he quietly retreats beyond the doors.

Jack turns and gathers Riley and Bozer into his arms. None of them bother with the pretense of holding back tears, all of them overwhelmed at the news, reveling in the relief of Mac being alive but mourning the cost of it.

—-

This isn’t right.

That’s all Jack can think about as he stares at the stump of what used to Mac’s left arm, everything just below the elbow gone.

It’s even more unfair given how young Mac is. Not that Jack is more qualified to receive and recover from an injury like this because of his age, but there’s no denying it’s a life changing injury all the same. Mac’s dealt with enough shit in his life that it feels patently cruel to see him have yet another roadblock like this thrown in front of him. 

It’s nearly twenty four hours after his surgery, when a nurse informs him that they’re going to lighten his sedation and that he’ll probably be awake soon. In some ways, Jack wishes he didn’t have to wake up yet, let the poor kid sleep through this unjust twist of fate a little longer, but he knows sleeping more won’t make it any less real. Jack hopes his presence will be comfort enough for the revelation ahead.

It’s almost lunch time when Mac’s eyes start to flutter in the tell-tale signs of waking. Jack tightens his hold on Mac’s right hand, his only hand his traitorous mind reminds, and Mac groans as he turns toward Jack, sleepy blue eyes roaming the room in unfocused sluggishness as he tries to reorient himself in the waking world.

“Hey Mac.” Jack says softly, giving him time to adjust, and Mac finally manages to make his eyes lock on to Jack, slowly focusing like an old style zoom in lens.

Mac gives him a trembling smile and croaks out a relieved, “hey.” Eyes slipping closed again for a moment.

“How you doin’ man?” Jack asks and Mac’s head bobs for a second the way a newborn foal tries to figure out how their muscles work.

“I don’t- I feel strange...” he slurs after a dry sounding swallow, eyes coming up to survey the room again. He frowns at the walls and the window and then back at Jack in confusion. “What h’ppened? I feel so weird...”

Jack’s throat tightens up in response and he has to take a long slow pull of air before he can answer. “You were hurt pretty bad Mac. You’re on some heavy stuff right now. But you’re gonna be alright, I promise.”

“H’w bad?” He mumbles and his eyes wander again, drift over his blanket covered feet and up and then he goes very still. “No...”

Jack squeezes his hand again to get his attention and when Mac’s glassy drugged gaze meets his he can see the horror written miles deep in his face. Mac turns to look at what is left of his left arm and lets out the softest whimpered sound of disbelief.

“No...” Mac whispers again, struggles to sit up and flops bonelessly back into his pillows, the nerve block robbing him of the strength to move. “... s’not real. It can’t...”

Jack can see how quickly this is getting out of hand so he hits the call button for a nurse and requests for help when they ask through the speaker what he needs. He stands and wraps his arms around Mac’s neck and pulls him in so Mac can hide his face against Jack’s shoulder. 

Mac sobs softly against his shirt. “It can’t be gone... you wouldn’t let them take my hand. It’s not real... please Jack it can’t be real...”

Jack doesn’t speak, he’s too close to losing what little composure he had hearing Mac’s desperate cries for help. He just holds him tighter, presses a kiss to his forehead and rocks him back and forth just a little, too well aware of the various other injuries he has. A nurse is in a moment later and at Jack’s helpless tearful expression and Mac’s despair-racked sobs, she’s quick to administer a bit more sedative. Mac’s hushed whimpering falls away after a minute or two and Jack is grateful for the opportunity to let his own tears fall.

He’s assured by the doctor that Mac’s reaction was largely in part due to the heavy dosage of pain meds in his system. He explains that it’s common for the emotions to run high and wild in circumstances like these and that the next time Mac wakes things should be significantly smoother. Jack prays that he’s right.

—

It’s nearly morning when Mac wakes again and he blinks his way to awareness a few slow moments at a time. His eyes land on Jack almost immediately and they both share a soft smile as Mac tightens his grip on Jack’s hand.

“Hey.” Mac whispers, his voice just a little rough.

“Hey sweetheart.” Jack says gently and only two breaths pass from Mac before he frowns.

“It... it’s really gone. Isn’t it?” Mac asks and Jack doesn’t see a point in trying to pussyfoot around the matter.

“Yeah, baby, it is.”

Mac nods and he takes a deep breath before he looks over at the stump of his arm. 

“Why can’t I move it?” He whispers and Jack tightens his hold on the hand in his grip.

“You’re on a nerve block for pain.” Jack tells him, doesn’t bother giving more details because he’s too busy watching Mac’s face for reaction.

Mac sighs and lays his head back, eyes closed as he takes a few paced slow breaths. When they open again, the blue shimmers behind a sheen of tears threatening to wash him away. Jack stands and pulls him in as close as he can and Mac trembles in his arms, a vicious bodily earthquake rocking the foundations of his life.

They don’t speak. There isn’t anything to say. Mac falls asleep again shortly after and it says a lot to Jack that he doesn’t fight it at all.

—

It’s been exactly four weeks and Mac is coming home today. Bozer made a bit of a feast, several of Mac’s favorites, and he and Riley are waiting together anxiously for them to arrive.

Neither of them had talked to Mac in that time. When they asked to speak to him, Jack had merely texted back that he wasn’t up to it but he was doing okay. And any conversation with Jack was stiff and subdued. 

Not talking to either of them really has been worrisome to say the least but they’re happy they’ll be home soon. And even though they probably shouldn’t be, they’re both drilling each other on remembering not to hand stuff to Mac on his left side, not to stare at his arm, not to mention anything about his injuries. Today should be a welcome home party and nothing more, no room for worrying about the future, just a celebration of Mac being alive to come home.

However when the sound of a shutting car door alerts them to their arrival and they race to the front window to make sure it’s them, all of that planning goes out the window.

Jack carefully picks Mac up from the front seat of the SUV and transfers him to a wheelchair. The chair glides pretty smoothly over the front path thanks to expert steering from Jack and when they step outside to greet them on the porch, Jack’s expression is fiercely neutral.

“Hey guys.” Jack greets when there is a beat too long of silence and they both jump into their parts. Mac’s eyes stare into the middle distance between them, unfocused. He’s there but he’s not.

“Hi Mac!” Riley says and leans down to kiss Mac’s cheek. He doesn’t respond, his cheek feels cold under her lips and she turns frightened eyes up to Jack in question. Bozer stumbles a bit, goes to pat Mac’s shoulder but remembers his injuries and redirects himself to give a careful hug to his friend’s neck. When they look to Jack for answers they get a minute shake of the head that tells them not to ask.

Jack kneels down beside the wheelchair and the side by side comparison of them is starkly wrong. Compared to Jack’s muscular, sun colored form, Mac is an unhealthy shade of pale and his cheeks look gaunt, eyes shadowed a bit even in the midday sun of afternoon.

“Mac, we’re home now sweetheart, and it smells like Bozer made your favorite dinner. You up to tryin’ to eat?”

Riley and Bozer exchange a horrified look at the tone Jack’s using, the kind of tone usually reserved for terrified children. When Mac doesn’t respond again, just fists his hand in the fabric of pajama pants, Jack nods like they had a whole conversation.

“It’s okay. If you’re still tired I can get you settled in the bedroom.”

Mac doesn’t speak, his face completely blank of reaction, but his hand unclenches enough to make a vague flick with his fingers in the direction of the bedroom. Jack stands and turns the chair for the bedroom, disappears inside with Mac for about five minutes and when he returns he holds his hands up for silence when he’s met by Riley and Bozer’s worried expressions.

They walk to the porch together and only when the sliding door is shut do they begin to talk.

“What’s going on, Jack?” Riley asks at the same time as Bozer’s, “what happened?”

Jack falls heavily into a deck chair and rubs at his face which is now no longer neutral and looks lined with pain. “I don’t know honestly. He’s been like this for weeks. First week he was pretty depressed for obvious reasons but he was talking and eating. Then around day eight in the burn ward he just sorta... shut down. Docs at the hospital seemed to think it was some kinda regressive PTSD. They said it would probably pass in time but they said it’s different for every person and only time and a lot of therapy would decide how long exactly.”

“What’s up with the wheelchair?” Bozer asks.

Jack frowns at his shoes. “The burns on his thigh are pretty serious. They’re worried about muscle integrity. That’s another, wait and see with therapy situation. Best case scenario, he ends up with a nasty scar and some range of motion issues, worst case walks with a cane forever or a possible amputation if it gets infected.”

“Oh Mac...” Riley whispers sadly and Bozer paces the length of the porch as he takes that in. “So what do we do to help?”

Jack sighs and he sounds close to tears when he clears his throat. “I don’t... I don’t know kiddo. The hospital staff seemed to think being home would encourage Mac to get better but I just don’t know. He has a nurse that’s gonna come in to do his wound care twice a day and he has a PT session schedule we’re told he has to start in the next couple days. Other than that, it’s just one day at a time, I guess.” 

“You know we’re here to help, Jack.” Bozer promises and Riley nods.

Jack gives them a waning smile, “I know. But the real question is if he’s goin’ to let us.”

Dinner gets put away, none of them feel up to eating anyway.

-

Mac wouldn’t be able to tell you how long it’s been since it happened. He’s not really aware of much, just the passage of day after wretched day. Time moves as if it’s caught in the vacuum of space, lasting far too long, stretching infinitely ahead of him. He’s in pain constantly and everyday seems unbearably long when you don’t have a reprieve from it.

Jack is always with him but a lot of the time Mac doesn’t notice. He can’t really bring himself to respond to Jack’s gentle attentions, the way he washes Mac with a rag at his bedside, or moves his good leg and arm for exercise, fills the silence with light one sided conversation, pleadingly encourages him to eat the hardy soups Bozer sends in. 

In fact, the only time Mac’s spoken to Jack recently is during the first week of being home, when the nurse would come to do his wound care. The nurse would prep everything and Jack would softly ask, “do you want me to stay? Or go out?”

Mac’s answer was always the same and by the second week, when the nurse would come in, Jack would lightly pat Mac’s good leg and see himself out till they were finished. He did want Jack to stay but he didn’t want Jack to have to see the wounds, the ugly gaping red patches and blistered skin, so he always asked him to leave. It probably hurt his feelings to not be allowed to stay, but better that than seeing the horror of Mac’s disgusting disfigured condition.

And there was also the first night he was home, he asked if he could be alone at night. Jack had agreed even if he sounded despondent at the request and had packed up a pillow and blanket and retreated to the living room couch. Otherwise it’s been radio silence between them.

Jack also shuttles him to and from PT and he doesn’t ask Mac if he can stay for those sessions because the therapist insists he be present and able to help. He might as well, heaven knows Mac needs all the help he can get anyway, hopelessly crippled the way that he is.

As he always has been in both their partnership and their recently developed romantic relationship, Jack is steady fast in watching after Mac and Mac really wishes he wouldn’t be.

He hates everything about this situation. He hates that he can’t stand or walk or do anything on his own really. He hates that he wants to see his friends but can’t stand the thought of them seeing him like this and ignores Jack every time he mentions them wanting to visit. He hates the wheelchair and he hates being bed bound. He hates the fact that his bedroom smells like medical antiseptic and he hates the gentle pity in the nurse’s eyes when he cries a bit as she cleans his wounds. PT hurts so much and he hates that he cries during a lot of the sessions and he hates that he most definitely has to have a heavy pain med after. He hates being awake and bored out of his mind and then realizing he needs help to go to the bathroom. He needs help to do everything, he’s barely a person anymore, he’s just a broken doll for people to move around in whatever ways they choose. He hates that he’s still alive, wishes the blast had just killed him and then he wouldn’t be stuck like this, as a burden to everyone around him.

The only reason any of it changes is one day Jack leaves the pain pills by his bedside while he goes to get him some water. Without really thinking about it, Mac takes the bottle and empties about ten of the morphine tablets into his hand and hides them beside his good leg while setting the bottle back where it was. Jack comes back a moment later and goes to shake out one for Mac’s morning dose and Jack pauses as soon as he lifts the container. Shakes it once and then turns a searching look on Mac. He then rubs his hand down the good side of Mac’s body and when he finds the pills Mac tucked there, the look of terror that spreads over his face is unlike anything Mac can ever remember seeing in Jack’s face.

“Bozer.” Jack calls just loudly enough that Bozer comes along quickly.

“Yeah, Jack?” He says just beyond the door while Jack puts the pills he found back into the container and pocketing it.

“Will you come sit with Mac, please?”

There’s only a beat of silence before Mac’s friend comes in with a carefully normal smile on his face. Jack walks out without another word and Mac knows immediately that he messed up badly, has upset Jack enough that he can’t even look at Mac. He rolls onto his good side and cries silently into his pillow while he resolutely ignores the gentle hand petting his hair like the pathetic animal that he is.

The next day, instead of going to physical therapy, Jack takes Mac to his doctor and they park him in an exam room while Jack steps outside to speak with his doctor, their hushed voices float through the door to Mac.

“I don’t know what to do anymore, Doc. He stole his pain meds yesterday, was hiding them under his leg. I think he wanted to... The nurse said his burns aren’t healin’ right anymore, and I can barely get him to eat. It’s been a month and he’s dropped thirty pounds.”

“We could consider a feeding tube-“

“No! Listen to me, please. I’m doin’ something wrong here, tell me how to fix this.”

“You’re not doing anything wrong, Mr. Dalton. You’ve done everything that a caretaker can do. This is a difficult situation, don’t be so hard on yourself.” 

“But he’s dying! Slowly but surely. There has to be more I can do.”

“Mr. Dalton... Jack, listen to me, the fact that Mac is declining has nothing to do with you. He’s suffered a great deal of trauma and everyone responds differently to trauma. He’s mentally not recovering so therefore his body isn’t recovering and I’m afraid that part has to come from him.”

“... Are you telling me he’s not gettin’ better because he... doesn’t want to get better?”

The silence is answer enough.

It’s barely a surprise when that night, Mac wakes to Jack sitting at his bedside and he hears him sniffling quietly in the dark.

“Mac... I’m sorry you’re hurting so bad. I’m sorry I can’t make it better. I’d give anything to take the pain for you. Is it... so wrong of me to ask you to stay if you’re so miserable like this? I know it’s bad, I know, but I can’t let you go without a fight, y’know? I bet if we could just get a couple months under our belt, I bet it would seem a little less awful. I know it won’t bring your arm back and I know this is gonna be hard... but I can’t just let you go... please don’t give up on me Mac, please...” Jack sobs a little and retreats after that to his place on the couch in the living room and Mac can hear his quiet cries even from down the hall.

Mac stares off into the darkness of the bedroom, thinking. Jack is working so hard to keep Mac healthy, trying to get him to some sort of livable condition and Mac is selfishly wasting his efforts by just giving up. He’s being an asshole, honestly, pretending like he’s the first person who’s ever lost a limb. Jeez, it’s only part of an arm, not even his writing hand, he can learn to deal with it. Lots of soldiers do it all the time, there’s no reason he can’t too. He shouldn’t be anymore of a burden on Jack than he has to be. Who knows, perhaps with some hard work, he could get to a state of somewhat self reliance, then maybe Jack wouldn’t feel obligated to stay. Jack could go on and live his life and after sometime Mac could end his miserable existence when no one suspected him of wanting to. He has to save Jack from his own sense of duty, he owes Jack that much.

He goes to sleep that night and promises himself he can do this for Jack. He has to try.

-

Jack wakes up to a ping on his phone and sits up straight. It’s a text from Mac, he wants to know if Jack’s awake.

Jack rushes down the hall, trying to wipe the salt crusts from his eyes to hide the fact that he had gone to sleep crying last night. When he opens the door, Mac is sitting up in bed and he gives Jack a ghostly thin smile.

“Hey, I’m sorry to wake you but I’m kinda hungry.”

Jack feels like he’s had a bucket of water dumped on him. Mac is making eye contact with him, smiling at him, talking to him, asking to eat. He wonders if he’s woken up from an incredibly long nightmare or if he’s dreaming a perfectly sweet dream.

“Of course. Anything in mind?”

Mac shrugs and winces when it pulls on some burns on his bad arm. “Um, anything’s good. Eggs would be awesome.”

Jack rushes to get it for him before he sits beside him and watches him eat. Mac makes small chat with him while he takes decent bites, wants to know when therapy is today and if he can have a wash before they go. 

It feels like seeing sunlight after the longest darkest winter he’s ever lived through. Jack tries not to get too excited but he’s beyond relieved to have this moment of normal with his partner and he hopes this is a sign of something good to come.

-  
-  
-


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mac’s road to recovery is longer and bumpier than expected

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have spent a lot of time trying to get this right and I’ve come to the conclusion this is as close as I can get it without turning this thing into a 100k saga. Self-beta’d, apologies for mistakes. 
> 
> Many thanks to KatieComma and Impossiblepluto for cheering me to the finish.
> 
> This chapter spends a lot of time in Mac’s headspace and it is full of suicidal ideation and there is a non-graphic suicide attempt at the end of this chapter. If you are easily triggered in that way, you should probably skip this one.
> 
> On positive note, 3rd chapter is already written and will be posted either tonight or tomorrow.
> 
> If you want to skip this chapter but you want to know what happens go comment down below and I’ll fill you in. ❤️

Mac is beyond tired of hearing the words “you’re doing great”. 

He knows that his therapist and the doctor and Jack are only trying to encourage him but it’s starting to have the opposite effect because he can hear how false it is.

He’s been in therapy for weeks now and it feels like he hasn’t made any progress toward walking at all. He should be more recovered by now, walking with a walker at the very least. And he’s not even going to start thinking about how little progress he’s made to using his stump of a leftover limb. It’s pathetic. He’s pathetic. Today, he’s supposed to be working on the chair, his PT trainer calls it the throne and Mac calls it torture, to standing without help. 

But his damn leg keeps giving out when he tries to bear weight on it. 

On the fifth time, he tries to stand and something pops under one of his bandages, one of the gnarled scabs tearing away from his newly healing wounds, and sets his skin ablaze. He falls forward into Jack’s arms and the trainer is quick to call an end to the session there. 

Mac growls under his breath, fighting the sting of tears from his burning leg, as Jack sets him back in his wheelchair and asks for the hundredth time. “You alright?”

“Fine. I’m fine.” Mac hisses, covering his face under his hand to hide the way his cheeks flush in embarrassment. He shouldn’t be having this much trouble with something so simple. He’s just being a weakling and he wants to just be able to walk again. 

“It’s okay Mac, you did great.” Jack says gently while rubbing Mac’s good leg to soothe him but it makes Mac’s hand itch to slap it away. He doesn’t want platitudes or false encouragement, he wishes he could sink into the floor and disappear.

Mac’s trainer comes over and sits down beside them with a sigh, her face full of sympathy.

“How we doing fellas?” She asks, eyes flicking to Jack because she knows Jack has the best read on Mac’s state of mind. 

Jack studies Mac hiding behind his hand and he translates. “He’s been frustrated. We’re both worried that his progress isn’t where it should be.”

She nods like that’s exactly what she was thinking. “I understand and these things do take time but perhaps we need to consider having your wound care specialist reassess your progress. Maybe more debridement is needed-“

“No!” Mac snaps and softens his tone when it sounds too furious to be polite. “I’m sure I can get past this. I’ll work harder I promise.” Just the idea of them reopening the wound to clean it, the way the skin will be scrubbed and torn apart to remove old stiffened tissue, leaves his stomach twisted into a cold hard knot.

The therapist gives his good knee a soft pat. “It’s not about you not working hard enough, Mac. It could be that the scar tissue is too tight to allow you proper movement. Progress takes time. You’ve been doing great.”

Mac sighs and just nods because he’s learned there’s no use arguing about this. He does what he’s told because it’s not like they’d listen to what he wants anyway.

-

As it so happens, the wound care specialist decides that debridement is their best bet and they’re scheduled the following week.

Jack is with him as they set up an IV line, and they wait together in silence for the nurse to come shuffle Mac off to his procedure. Three wounds will be targeted today, and the doctor has called it a ‘simple procedure’. He made it sound like a walk in the park but of course he did because he’s not the one who has to live with it after it’s done. Even though it’s been a while, nearly four months since his stay in the burn ward, Mac remembers every detail about how his skin had itched and burned and throbbed with pain. The only good thing about his baby steps toward recovery had been how the wounds felt as they closed over, no longer fiery and mind-consuming in their hurt. And now, Mac had to start all over again.

“Mac?” Jack asks softly, touching his knee to get his attention and Mac startles, looking up at him and slipping his mask into place. 

“I’m sorry, what?” Mac asks and Jack frowns at him.

“I asked what’s wrong. You’ve been chewing your fingernails for almost five minutes.”

Mac drops his hand to his lap guiltily and turns his gaze to the wall. He’s never been good at lying to Jack’s face.

“Just... nervous I guess.” Mac hedges and it’s not entirely a lie, he is nervous but it has little to do with going in under anesthesia. He’s nervous about how bad it’s going to be waking up. As far as he’s concerned, he’s allowed to be. The last time he was put under he woke up missing a hand. 

Jack nods, understanding as usual. “It’ll be okay. You’ll get through this and I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

Mac nods, swallowing hard at the sudden lump in his throat. It’s not a nice feeling making him emotional. He’s pissed, hearing Jack talk about this like it’s something they can do together. He’s the only one who has to survive this, to live this way. He’s pissed that he can’t just yell at Jack and tell him to get lost because it won’t work, Jack’s not going to leave. He’ll stay because he feels like he has to. Which is why Mac agreed to sit in this bed and submit himself to another round of this specialized brand of torture. Because if he can get through this, get to a slightly more functional state, maybe Jack will let his guard down just enough and he can finish the job the bomb didn’t...

Jack’s saying something again so he forces himself to listen even though he doesn’t want to.

“...and I know it’ll hurt at first but it’ll get better.” Jack promises, eyes kind and warm as they always are, and it makes Mac’s gut twist. Jack thinks this will get better, that he’s somehow going to get over this, and Mac can’t begin to explain just how wrong he is. Pain is his life now, and all he can do is bide his time till he can escape it forever.

The nurse comes just then, so Mac fortunately doesn’t have to think of a response to those words. Jack walks with them down to the sterile room, promising to be waiting for Mac.

Mac gives him a thumbs up and silently prays for something to go wrong with the anesthesia so he doesn’t have to wake up.

-

After the procedure, it’s as bad as Mac feared it would be. For the first week, the overwhelming agony and the desire to curl up and die is very present at all times. His raw skin feels like a living writhing animal howling silently for relief under his bandages. He’s utterly grateful for the heavy pain meds they give him, escaping into fitful sleep as often as he can.

Jack wakes him too often in his opinion, forcing him to drink an awful sort of protein drink. Very healthy, the doctors assured him, but absolutely disgusting. He eats when Jack asks and he attends his appointments with a calm mask on the outside. Inside, he’s screaming for it to just be over.

Time passes and Mac wishes it wouldn’t.

Some days are bad and some days are just a blank slate full of nothing. 

Therapy resumes and gets bumped up from painfully frustrating to unimaginably exhausting. Physical therapy demands so much effort by the time they get home, he collapses in his bed unable to move. They begin massage therapy not long after, the therapist using her delicate hands to forcibly loosen the muscles from their rigid locked positions. Mac is almost certain he will never equate the word massage with pleasure again.

He hates everyday. But Jack is here, smiling at him when he tries, and even though he doesn’t want to care, he can’t help feeling an odd muted happiness that Jack is encouraged by his efforts.

So he continues to struggle, to grasp every inch of hallowed recovery-ground. He works toward it as hard as he can. He fights because Jack wants him to. He wants to hate Jack for asking him to continue to live this way but he just can’t. 

He fights through each exhausting long night and day because it’s not an option to give up. Not yet at least. 

-  
Slowly Mac relearns how to walk.

Slower still, Mac’s wounds reheal.

Progress is hard earned but it’s blossoming into a distant recovery.

Jack continues to take care of him and everything around them too, as always, and it begins to grind on Mac’s nerves. He shouldn’t feel this way, he knows that, but it’s like an itch on his brain he can’t scratch. He can’t turn it off.

He can’t help it that he starts acting like an ungrateful brat. When Jack brings him dinner he takes his food but rarely thanks him for it because the protein drinks that go with it make it impossible to enjoy the food. When Jack Saran Wraps his wounds for shower time, Mac yanks the soap bottles from his hand with a quiet glare. Jack picks up after him, cleans up any spills or messes Mac makes because he stumbles or misjudged the distance to a counter. 

Mac feels like Jack has become his nursemaid, taking things out of his hand and fussing over him like a clumsy child. It’s infuriating and demeaning. His chest feels tight with a strange sort of fury as it continues. On a baser part of his brain, his logic states that this is happening because Jack is just trying to save him the embarrassment, save himself time from cleaning up after Mac. He shouldn’t be angry about it at all, he shouldn’t have the right to feel this way given that Jack is just doing what he does, taking care of things around him. But it leaves him feeling like the walls are closing, like he can’t take a breath the right way anymore. 

It comes to a head when Mac drops a handful of shirts as he makes his way to the laundry room and Jack scoops them up, reaching out to take the rest from Mac’s arm.

“I don’t need you fussing over me. I’m not helpless!” Mac snarls, snatching his clothes back from Jack’s hands. Jack stares at him in open mouthed shock and he steps back, holding his hands up in surrender.

“I know you’re not. I’m just tryin’ to help-“

Mac throws his clothes into the washing machine, gritting his teeth, turning back to Jack with a snarl. “Yeah, exactly. You’re so busy trying to help, you didn’t even think about whether or not I’d want to do it myself. I can handle things on my own. I don’t need you hovering over me every five minutes.”

The expression in Jack’s face goes from visibly shocked to muted hurt and Mac watches Jack retreat with slow careful steps out of the laundry room. 

As soon Mac’s alone his throat tightens with pain and he’s furious at himself for this reaction. Why should he be upset that Jack left him alone when he got his wish? He had wanted space after all, it’s felt like the walls have been caving in on him, and he was just being honest right? So why did it feel like he was doing something so morally wrong, he could feel tears welling in his eyes?

He goes to the bedroom and hides under the covers because he doesn’t know what else to do.

-  
The next day, when he finally climbs out of his covers and heads for the kitchen because his stomach growling won’t let him rest, there’s a surprise knock at the door.

Jack eyes Mac from the living room, having been there trying to nonchalantly watch TV, obviously waiting to see what Mac wants to do because he’s trying his hardest to stay out of Mac’s way. 

They’re not expecting visitors today but Mac isn’t going to prove Jack’s hovering necessary by not answering it, so he calls out that it’s open, expecting Bozer or Riley. They’re both surprised to see James MacGyver when he crosses the threshold. 

“Angus, we need to talk.” James announces, bypassing small talk greetings with a simple nod to both of them.

Jack doesn’t leave his spot on the couch, but Mac can’t miss the way his knuckles tighten into fists against the back of the sofa. Mac waves his father over to the counter but the man doesn’t sit, just remains standing like he’s taking his place at a podium.

“We need to talk about you coming back to work.” James says briskly. “You’ve been home and recovering for months. I spoke to the medical team at the Phoenix and they tell me your physical progress is exceptional, that you are well on your way to receiving a prosthetic. Congratulations, son.”

Mac keeps his eyes on the ground. It doesn’t feel like a good thing but people keep telling him it is so he mumbles, “thank you.”

James nods. “So then, are you ready to come back to work?”

It brings Mac up short, he hadn’t really thought about it given his recent state of mind of wallowing in his own pity. “Well... I’m months away from wearing a prosthetic full time. And it can take a year or more before I’m proficient enough to use it for everyday use. I don’t think I’ll be much use...”

His father waves that idea away with a dismissive sigh, “I’m not suggesting you going back to work in the field, that is unlikely for you given... your circumstances.” Mac had known that would probably be the case but it still hurt to hear it. “But a mind like yours is too good to waste, Angus. And resuming work in the lab would provide you more options than just sitting here.”

Mac’s eyes flick to Jack who’s eyes contain barely concealed fury. But this isn’t Jack’s choice, it’s his. And in some ways, his father is right, wasting away in his house isn’t likely going to help the time pass any faster.

“I’m not sure I’m ready...”

“Of course you are.” James says quickly. “There’s no reason someone in your position can’t be a useful asset to the team. So all that remains is when I should prepare the lab team for your arrival.”

“And if he’s not ready?” Jack asks gently, and the two MacGyvers stare at him from across the room.

“But he is ready.” James says with extreme patience, the tone that says he’s being very kind just hearing Jack’s question at all. “The medical staff have already shown that his physical progress is more than enough to be cleared for light duty.”

Jack shakes his head, casting a hesitant look at Mac. “Sir, all due respect, no one’s prouder of Mac’s progress than me but-“

“And all due respect to you, Dalton, I’m grateful for how much help you’ve been to Angus’s situation but this does not concern you.”

Jack looks to Mac but Mac can’t find the words to fight back. He keeps his eyes on the floor and listens with his heart in his throat as Jack walks out of the room in furious silence. James has his his every day lined out going forward, starting as soon as possible, and Mac figures perhaps it’s better this way. If this can drive Jack away faster, maybe he won’t have to keep holding on for much longer.

-

People are staring at him, Mac notices it almost immediately, when they walk into the Phoenix. Some are subtle, a quick glance at his face then his pinned up sleeve and the place where his left arm was before they keep walking. Others stare with utter surprise, so much so he can almost read the ‘who let the cripple in here?’ in their faces. He doesn’t try to meet their eyes after the first few, he hates the pity frown he gets when he does, a sad facial apology that they’ve been caught looking at him like a circus attraction.

Only a handful of people come to welcome him back, say they’re glad to see him. The people Mac wishes most to see here are Riley and Bozer but they’re away on a mission and it’s probably for the best. If they were here, he’d be finding every excuse to go up to the war room to see what they’re working on and he shouldn’t let himself get distracted on his first day back.

Jack walks him to the lab, his own personal escort after their uncomfortably silent drive into work this morning. He pauses as Mac looks into the lab and clears his throat quietly, asks if they can have lunch together.

Mac hates that he’s made Jack feel like he has to ask if they can hang out but he doesn’t blame him for being cautious, especially not after snapping at him to stop hovering. He agrees to lunch and they plan to order a pizza. With a nod, Jack turns to head for the training room downstairs to be reassessed for the field after they share an awkward ‘see you later’ fistbump.

He had known Jack would go back to being part of the field team if they returned and he should be happy about this. This is a step toward normal and it should be a good thing but it puts an ache in his throat he can’t explain and he has to work on pushing it aside. He heads into the lab to be greeted by one of the lead researchers and he catches them staring at his pinned sleeve briefly before he’s led over to a workstation with several pages of notes and mathematical configurations. 

The work he’s being assigned for his first day is… mildly boring, but he figures he should’ve expected that. Of course they’d throw him an easy one while he gets his feet back under him. And in some ways, he’s kind of grateful that it’s the sort of work he can ease himself back into. He sets himself to work and tries to lose himself in the basics of it, the design and the barebones foundational physics needed to make this project useful. 

But the more time he spends going over it… the more he realizes his brain doesn’t seem to know what to do with it.

For the first time in his life, he doesn’t have an answer to, scientifically speaking, something very simple and it twists his stomach into a knot. 

Well this isn't the first time, his traitorous mind whispers. 

His heart starts to race and his palms slick with sweat. He glances around the room, the little cubicles of work stations and lab equipment, a familiar office he’s spent lots of time in before. But for a moment when he looks around, it’s not the lab, it’s the office building from that day.

He glances down and in his hand is the bomb that took his arm.

He drops it like it’s a hot coal and he watches in confusion as it shatters at his feet.

He blinks and his feet are coated in glass and harmless peroxide. With a glance around the room as his vision starts to narrow, the only thing he can see is a few sets of eyes studying him in confusion.

“MacGyver?” One of the techs asks but Mac is backing away from them. His arm hurts and he grabs at the stump, trying to relieve the sudden sharpness of his overloaded senses.

“No…” he whispers, panicked. He can’t breathe, his arm hurts. There was a bomb and he can’t stop it. His arm hurts. Where’s Jack?

There’s no time to stop the bomb. He needs to get out or get to cover. He glances at the desk behind him and he hopes it’s enough to protect him.

-

Jack gets the call about three hours into his evaluation. When he hears the panic on the other end he doesn’t even wait to hear what exactly has happened, all he heard was Mac and we need you.

When he bursts through the doors of the lab, the first thing he sees is a crowd of white coated techs hovering by a table and he goes straight for them.

“Clear a path.” Jack barks at them, breaking through them to find Mac hugging himself, curled under one of the large work stations, eyes clenched shut and hyperventilating. He looks so terrified.

Jack looks back to see the other lab technicians still hovering nearby, whispering amongst themselves with pity-filled eyes. He glares at them coldly.

“I think you can all find other things to be doing right now.”

They all shuffle out, one by one, and when the room is empty, Jack touches Mac’s leg gently. 

“Mac?”

Mac’s eyes flit around for a moment before they land on Jack and they soften with relief. He reaches out to Jack with his hand and lets Jack hold it in a steady grip. Mac whimpers quietly again, breathing hard as he tries to reign in the terror that he’d been fighting moments before, so Jack strokes his back in a slow rhythm. 

“Hey man, bad day at the office?”

Mac sniffs quietly, “yeah...”

Jack watches Mac struggling to regain his composure, feels him tense and shaking in his arms. 

“I’m sorry...” Mac says sadly, the coming down from his terror has left him the realization that his panic was a really bad flashback and nothing more. “I... I thought if I could just...”

“Don’t worry about it, it’s just a little set back. We can try again tomorrow if you want?” Jack offers but Mac shakes his head quickly.

“No I can’t- Please Jack... j-just get me out of here. Anywhere but here.” Mac begs in a trembling voice, tucking his bad arm closer against his chest. Jack doesn’t need to be told twice.

Jack tucks Mac under his arm and pulls him toward the exit, glaring at anyone who gets in their path to the parking garage. They’ve just made it to GTO when a self-righteous voice calls out indignantly behind them.

“Dalton, you better have a good reason for kidnapping my son from the lab.”

Jack locks his jaw and helps Mac settle down into the front seat, closing the door behind him to shelter him whatever might happen next. Fast moving feet come up behind them and James starts again, “Dalton, didn’t you hear me? What the hell-?”

Jack whirls on James and the older man has the good sense to step back at the barely controlled rage in Jack’s eyes. “I told you he wasn’t ready. You didn’t listen. You pressured him, manipulated him to feel like he didn’t have a choice.”

“He came on his own.” James challenges.

Jack snaps back. “He came because you told him he was useless if he didn’t!” 

“You don’t get over your fears unless you face them!” James shouts hotly and Jack has had enough. 

Jack grabs James by the lapels of his fancy shirt and lets his right hook do the work. James looks up at him from the concrete, surprised on the flat of his back, holding his jaw.

“This isn’t about fear, you idiot.” Jack grits out between his teeth. “For some kind of genius, you sure don’t know shit about how to be a human being. Your son, your flesh and blood child. Lost. A fucking. Arm. You don’t just walk that off. He almost died, his whole world got torn apart and he’s having to figure out how to start over. He doesn’t need you or anyone else for that matter filling his head up with ideas of what normal should look like. He’s just starting to get some ground under his feet again and he doesn’t need this or you for that matter to fuck it up for him. Stay away from him.”

Jack turns to leave and he feels more than hears James scramble up to stop him. He sidesteps the attack, watches the older man lose his balance and Jack uses his momentum to slam him into the side of the GTO. Through the windshield, Jack sees Mac watching in horror and Jack restrains the need to kick the crap out of this man.

Using his boot, he turns James over and stands over him for a moment. “If you got any brains left in that skull a’yours, stay away from us. You’re alive only because me killin’ you would upset Mac. But he’d get over it eventually.”

Jack doesn’t wait for a response, he goes around the driver side and they leave the Phoenix behind. 

-

When they get home, Mac heads for the bathroom with eyes on the floor in shame. He can’t believe he essentially ran away from work like a child running to their parents’ bedroom after a bad dream, had begged Jack to get him out. Jack had called it a set back but it’s so much worse than that. It’s a confirmation that his head is too messed up to ever be truly useful again.

He heads for the mirror as he undresses, planning to climb under the hot water and try to wash off the failure of today. He stands in front of it, stares down his red-eyed reflection and looks himself over completely for the first time in months.

He’s scrawny and pale, patchy-pink new skin spots on the left side of his ribs, chest and upper arm. The scar tissue is unsightly at the edges, gnarled and scabby still. What used to be a body of strong lean muscle and endurance is now withered and frail. He touches the stump of his arm and feels his throat close up with emotion. He’s useless like this. Broken. A burden to everyone.

He failed at his job and it cost him everything. Well, not everything, Riley, Bozer and Jack are all alive, at least that’s something. But it did cost him his freedom and his future. 

He doesn’t have a future. And Jack’s future is hindered by his mere existence. He had promised himself he’d try to get to a livable condition for Jack’s sake but he’s failing at that too. He can see it in the sadness of Jack’s eyes. Jack’s still here, promising not to let go and that he’ll be here as long as it takes. But Jack can’t see what Mac knows. He’s too broken to get better. He’s a lost cause. 

He glares at his reflection as his mind spirals down toward the darkness that tells him there’s only one way out of this, for him and for Jack.

He reaches for the side drawer, searching for whatever will get the job done.

-

Jack hadn’t been keen to let Mac out of his sight when they got home but Mac’s completely exhausted defeated request of a shower hadn’t been one he could ignore. Ten minutes, Jack told himself, then he’d get Mac out here to eat lunch and they’d talk about everything.

They need to talk, no doubt. It’ll be hard for both of them, but it needs to happen.

Jack goes to the fridge, checking to see what he can make them, when he hears a rattling from down the hall. There’s a hushed slam of a drawer and Jack pauses, listening. It’s probably nothing but he can’t ignore his gut that tells him to make sure.

He heads down to the bedroom and knocks at the master bathroom door.

“Hey man, you okay?”

There’s no answer for too long. He knocks again and his heart throbs with an instinctual fear.

“Mac, answer me.” Jack says loudly, trying to be firm but not angry.

A slow hesitant reply floats through the door, “it’ll be okay.”

Jack feels his spine turn to ice, he checks the handle and yanks it viciously when he finds it locked.

“Mac! Open the door or I swear to god I’ll break it down!” Jack bellows, laying his weight into it, but when there’s no answer from the other side, he doesn’t hesitate. He steps back three paces and puts all his might into a kick beside the handle. The wood splinters and groans as the door flies open and slams against the interior wall, but the shower of wood and debris is nothing compared for the sight waiting for him.

Mac’s standing inside the shower in just his boxers holding Jack’s old straight razor. Old but still very sharp. 

Jack swallows as his mouth goes completely dry. Mac hasn’t done anything yet, there’s no blood on anything Jack can see, but he’s holding the razor up to his neck, inches away. 

“Mac... what are you thinkin’ man?” Jack asks softly but Mac doesn’t appear to hear him, those blue eyes Jack’s loved so long are focused far far away.

Jack inches closer, one step at a time, quietly so as not to spook the younger man. When he’s about three feet away, Mac finally notices him and he presses back into the shower wall away from Jack, hand shaking around the razor.

“Get away from me.” Mac hisses, raising the blade higher, too close to the fragile skin of his neck and Jack doesn’t approach closer but he doesn’t back away.

“You know I can’t leave you Mac.”

Mac’s eyes drift close for a moment, full of regret. “I know. That... that’s why I need to do this. So that you can go... so that it won’t hurt us anymore...”

Jack feels honest bone chilling terror coursing through his veins at the sad finality in his tone. This isn’t a cry for help, this is a hurting soul desperate for relief. He has to get Mac to see reason, to hear him right now or he’s going to lose him forever.. “You never want to hurt anyone, Mac, that’s what I love about you. We both know that. But if you do this... you’re gonna do more than just hurt me.”

Mac’s chin wobbles, eyes drifting down a bit, but the shaking hand with the razor doesn’t lower. “It’ll hurt at first but it’ll get better...”

Jack rears back at hearing his own words this way but he refuses to back down. 

“Angus... look at me.”

Mac doesn’t take his eyes off the floor and Jack feels tears burning up all the calm he was barely keeping together. He feels like he’s run out of time and he’s not above begging.

“Angus, look at me, darlin’ please.”

Mac’s glassy eyes meet his and Jack reaches his open palm toward him, taking one step then another till they’re less than a foot apart.

“Jack...” Mac whispers so quietly, tears racing down his cheeks like rivers of pain. Jack closes the gap between them but he doesn’t reach for the razor though, instead he puts one hand on Mac’s cheek and strokes a fresh tear away with his thumb.

“I’ve got you, Mac. I’m right here. I’m not goin’ nowhere.” Jack promises and the sound of Mac’s bitten sob cracks the air between them. Mac leans forward and puts his forehead against Jack’s chest, the rigid on edge tension giving way to full body shaking.

“I’m sorry... I’m s-sorry... I don’t-“ Mac hiccups while Jack takes the razor delicately out of his hand and tosses it out at the wall to clatter harmlessly out of reach.

Jack wraps one arm loosely around Mac’s shoulders and pulls him from the shower, helping the sobbing man kneel on the floor. He doesn’t shush Mac’s cries or tell him it’ll be okay, because they’re both a long way away from that but Mac’s still here and that’s all Jack cares about right now.

After a few long minutes of quiet sobbing, Mac whimpers brokenly, “Why are you still doing this?” 

Jack is stroking Mac’s hair, just trying to provide a little comfort and the question isn’t what he had expected. He doesn’t know what he should say so he settles for a soft joke, “don’t got no where else to be just now.”

Mac is very still in his arms suddenly and Jack realizes he wants a real answer. “This is what you do for the people you love. You stay when they need you. Why wouldn’t I be here to help you?” Jack counters. “After all this time...”

“Exactly...” Mac answers in a low monotone, completely exhausted as he comes down from the peak of his emotional break. “After all this time, you’re still here... Playing chauffeur and nanny to a broken person who doesn’t give you anything for your trouble. I’m a lost cause, Jack. Don’t you get it? I’m better off dead. The sooner I’m gone the sooner you can be free...”

Jack feels like he’s been slapped, he hadn’t realized Mac’s headspace was still this bad. He’d known it wasn’t good given how angry and frustrated Mac was all the time but he figured he just needed his space to work through his trauma. He didn’t realize Mac had zero faith in himself at all or that he considered himself a worthless burden to be dealt with. 

He takes a breath to control the sadness in his own voice, “Mac listen to me because this is very important... You. Are not. Broken. And fuck anyone who says otherwise. Do you understand me? This-“ he reaches down and touches Mac’s stump and it makes Mac jump at the unexpected touch. “This doesn’t make you broken. It proves you’re made of tougher stuff than most of us. And no matter how hard this is, death is not an option. Even if I have to drag you kicking and screaming back to the light, I will.”

“But what if it’s for nothing?” Mac whispers, voice trembling with fear and Jack can hear that at last they’re getting to what has him scared the most. 

“Loving and looking after you is the most important thing I’ve done in my life, Mac. It could never be ‘for nothing.’” Jack vows.

“And what if I can’t love you anymore?” Mac whimpers, nearly frantic as he argues back, “You say I’m not broken but I am... My brain is a fucking mess and I can’t go back. I can’t do what I did. I’m useless! I’m not your partner anymore. I’m not me anymore... I’m not who I was and I’m not who you fell in love with. I wish I was... but we both know that bomb took more than just my arm. You have to see that, Jack. And the longer I stay... the longer you’ll be trapped with what’s left of the person you loved...”

When Mac looks up into Jack’s eyes to see what he’ll say, he feels eerily calm despite the pain of Mac’s confession.

“You’ve got it all wrong... All that’s ever mattered to me, Mac, is that you’re still alive and here with me. No matter how broken you think you are, it’s nothing, and I mean nothing, compared to how broken I will be if you give up.” Jack pauses on a shaken whisper to take a breath.  
“I need you to hear me okay? I love you. Nothing that’s happened between then and now will change that. You don’t need to be useful, you don’t need to be anything, so long as you’re still alive. And if you decide love isn’t something you can do right now, or ever for that matter, I’ll understand... You don’t owe me something for stayin’. I’m here with you, however you need me. Not just for you, but for me too, Mac. You’re everything to me. So I’ll be here. Today. Tomorrow. And for whatever comes next. You got me.”

“Jack...” Mac whispers reverently against Jack’s shoulder but he’s not asking for anything. For once he’s not pleading to be let go or forgotten. Jack’s arms are around Mac as they’ve longed to be for the last several months. 

The road ahead of them is still long but it finally feels like they’re walking it together.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time heals all wounds... and a little sun never hurt either

1 year and 6 months later

Cozumel, Mexico

-

Laughter is the sound of a life worth living, in Jack’s opinion, and lately he’s been hearing more of it, especially Mac’s. It’s not come easily, that’s for sure. After Mac’s almost suicide, Jack was worried he’d never hear something as sweet as Mac’s laughter again but it’s starting to happen more frequently these days.

He watches Mac now, him and the local guys who are working to rebuild a barn after last week’s tropical storm caved in the old roof, and despite the chatter of men hard at work there’s happiness in it. He can pick out Mac’s bright quick laugh amongst the voices and it still sends his heart galloping in his chest.

Mac’s doing his thing, helping people and being the brains of the operation as usual, and the naturalness of it looks good on him. He’s working with his shirt off, autumn or not it’s hot here on the island, and that’s new too. He’s starting to feel less self-conscious about the scars and it helps that the people here don’t care about it. Mac became their family as he tends to do with anyone who spends enough time with him. They don’t see his scars or missing limb as a handicap, they just see Mac, as Jack does, and it’s something Jack’s insanely grateful for.

It hadn't been an easy choice but they’d both known after the bathroom incident, they needed a change of scenery. When they moved here, after a brief stop over in Texas to visit the Dalton ranch while they made plans, neither one of them was sure this would work out but they figured they didn’t have anything to lose. They found themselves a little hole in the wall of the island port town, an abandoned but sturdy bungalow that overlooked the docks, and they both took a gamble on it. It’s not very big but after living the secret agent life, neither one of them needed a lot of space, just a little spot to call home.

Mac came to life making plans to fix their little place up, renovating, refurbishing, polishing and sprucing it all up till it resembled a real home. He frequently asked for Jack’s input but Jack didn’t have much to offer because it didn’t matter what their home looked like, just having a home to love and live in was all Jack ever wanted.

They’d had quite a bit of money leftover when they threw in their funds together to buy this place but you can’t put a price on boredom. When the work was mostly finished on the house, Jack had ended up buying a nice little catamaran boat that needed some work, mostly for tinkering purposes for Mac’s sake but as it turned out, it proved to be a sweet little side job to bring in some cash.

In the tourist season, Jack made out like a bandit offering rides for all the island visitors and using his innate sweet-talking personality to win their hearts and decent tips.

Outside of the busy season he and Mac would go cruise around the reefs or fishing if they wanted to, sometimes popping over to the mainland to do some shopping for whatever was hard to come by on the island itself. Recently, they had traded a local girl for some free diving scuba lessons, she spent a weekend teaching them the skill and Mac spent a full day fixing her tour bus. By no means are they professionals at it, but it’s a fun thing they can do in the off season and they’ve found some pretty cool stuff amongst the reefs. Mac has a whole collection of fancy ruined watches that were lost by tourists and he’s pretty much taught himself the art of clockmaking to refurbish them and sell to the local guys for pennies on the dollar.

It’s strange how they managed to carve out a little chunk of life for themselves, and stranger still, they seem to belong here. The people in town know them pretty well these days, and they’ve long since stopped calling them gringos. They get invited for just about every banquet and there isn’t a doubt in Jack’s heart that these people care about them. Not to mention that when they showed up every white-haired abuela on the block decided Mac needed to be fed and nursed back to health. 

And Mac does look the picture of health these days. His skin is a perfect golden tan from their hours in the sun, muscles fine tuned and returned to former strength after the long process of house renovation. His eyes actually look full of light again. Jack can’t argue with the locals who say this place is paradise because it really did become a slice of heaven all their own. 

Its not perfect though, nothing ever is. They both have their bad days. Sometimes the phantom pain in Mac’s residual arm is enough to leave him screaming awake and sobbing against Jack’s shoulder. Or occasionally he’ll flash back to the moment with the bomb, and he’ll have to sit and breathe in through his nose on counts of ten while he fights back to the now.

Jack has bad days too, like when he can’t sleep after dreaming that he didn’t stop Mac in time. Once Mac had walked down to the beach without letting Jack know and when he couldn’t find him, he’d nearly fainted in blinding relief when Mac walked through the door. 

They’re both a little fucked up but the passing of time gives them some solace. Jack’s just happy they have the time to work on getting better.

He’s in fact so busy musing over the last year and watching Mac guide the team of men as they use a system of pulleys to raise a ten foot frame wall, that he nearly has a heart attack when a soft familiar voice greets him.

“Hello Jack.”

Jack falls off the stump he’s using to rest on and stares up at Mathilda Weber. “Jesus Christ, Matty, are you trying to kill me?!”

But she’s looking not at him when she answers, she’s watching Mac with warm dark eyes. “You know if I wanted you dead, I wouldn’t announce myself to you. Don’t be so dramatic Dalton.”

Jack sighs as he dusts off his shorts and sits back down. He knew eventually their old life would come calling again but he wishes they’d had a little more time to prepare. “Well I’d say it’s good to see you but I’m going to assume you weren’t just in the neighborhood and this is a business visit, yeah?”

Matty nods, frowning slightly. “I’m afraid you’re correct. But we have some time. How is he?”

Jack looks back to where Mac is directing the men through the next steps. “Gettin’ stronger all the time. How’s the team?”

Matty shrugs. “They’re good, they miss you both. It’s a little too quiet without you boys there, but the job still gets done.”

Jack’s about to ask if it’s just her here when a loud crack alerts them to something going wrong. The crowd of men begin to shout just as a pulley gives and the rope starts to slide. Men scatter to jump on it to keep the wall from falling down. Jack’s just about to run help them when Mac helps jump on the line and the wall’s destruction is halted just in time. Under considerable effort, the wall is eventually righted and when it’s finally secured, the men all clap Mac on the shoulder and praise him for his help. It’s apparently decided that’s enough for now, everyone adjourning for a lunch break, and Jack sees the way Mac’s shoulders square up when he catches sight of Matty.

They go back to their little bungalow for the private conversation, Matty giving them a ride in a standard issue suv. It’s just the three of them when they all settle in at the small dining table.

“My apologies for dropping in unannounced.” She begins, “and I wish it was under better circumstances but I am glad to see you.”

She fills them in quickly on the usual business, the world is in danger, a terrorist this and a weapon that, same story different country. When she’s done recounting the basics, she turns to Mac with sad eyes as she slides a mission dossier across the table to him. 

“I don’t have a right to ask you to give more and no one is going to make you if you say no but we really need your help Mac. The world could really use it. We’d like you to rejoin the Phoenix.”

Mac turns to Jack with a frown and the silent question in his eyes is very obvious. What should we do? Jack gives him the only truth he knows.

“I’m with you, Mac, wherever that is. Whatever you want, I’ll go with you.” Jack promises and Mac nods.

When he turns back to Matty he takes the dossier and gives it a quick glance, closing it almost instantly. “I’ll help but only as a consultant. The field isn’t where I belong anymore. I’ll look over this and email you everything I can work out about it. I’ll need a few hours. I’m sorry, I hope you understand.”

Matty nods and even if she does look a trifle disappointed, she doesn’t look surprised. “Of course I understand. Unfortunately, I should be going now but I do appreciate you taking the time, Mac. It really is good to see you boys again.”

Mac takes a deep breath and offers a tiny smile, even if he looks conflicted. “It’s good to see you too.”

“Jack.” Matty says as she stands, heading for the door. “I hope we’ll see you both again soon.”

Jack grins back, “we’ll be here. Door’s always open to family. Right Mac?”

“Right.” Mac agrees and Matty smiles at them in turn, an honest one.

“Till next time then.” She says and she’s gone like she was never there a moment later.

—

Hours later, after Mac has spent time working on the dossier and sent off multiple emails, Jack intends to persuade him to come sit and have some dinner but when he goes to the little office alcove, Mac isn’t there. He heads out to the porch that overlooks the ocean below them and finds Mac laid back in their hammock, his face contorted in deep thought.

“Hey hombre, dinner’s ready.” Jack announces but Mac doesn’t move and his eyes stay focused on the horizon. The coming night is cool and the breeze of clean ocean air tickles its way into their lungs. It’s peaceful but Mac looks anything but relaxed.

Jack goes around the hammock to Mac’s head and leans over to give his forehead a soft kiss. It’s an innocent thing, just easy comfort, because Mac isn’t ready for more than that just yet. He loves Jack, Mac says it with ease all the time and he means it, but somedays he still struggles with his scarred body image. They’ve talked about it before, and Jack told Mac that the ball is in his court, they’ll graduate to full on physical love aside from the vanilla stuff like hand holding and kisses when he’s ready. Jack’s good with it, he can see how Mac is growing more comfortable in himself as time goes on, and he’s not in a rush. He’s got nothing but time on his hands. Mac smiles at him briefly before the frown returns.

“Am... am I making the wrong choice here ?” Mac asks.

“For sitting out here and lettin’ your dinner go cold ? Hell yeah, I made shrimp kebabs and you know those only taste good hot.”

Mac stands with a fond eye roll and follows Jack to the table but he clears his throat, continuing, “should we go back? Am I being selfish not going back?”

Jack serves Mac a plate and studies the worry on his face. “Why is it selfish?”

Mac shrugs, pulling a shrimp off the stick to examine it. “Because the world needs us? We’re supposed to be protecting it, aren’t we? What if a threat comes we could’ve solved and we didn’t because I decided I didn’t want to go back? Doesn’t that make it my fault ?”

Jack sits down with his own plate and shakes his head with a soft sigh. Poor Mac, always with the martyr complex, still convinced he’s not done enough unless he’s given up everything. He wishes he would’ve punched James harder that day in the parking garage but hindsight is 20/20. 

“No, Mac I don’t think that’s your fault at all and I definitely don’t think it’s selfish in the slightest. I’ll tell you why, you listening?”

Mac nods.

“It’s not selfish to have your own interests at heart, especially given the shit you’ve been through and I’m not just talking about the arm. You’ve survived a lot of crap, one thing after another, the kind of crap that makes lesser men’s brains break down in mush piles that require a shit ton of medication and therapy to fix. We’ve both given a lot to this line of work. Blood, sweat, tears and memories neither of us enjoy. Facts being what they are, no matter how you spin it, the world is always gonna need savin’ Mac, from one thing or another. The world is a bit of a shit hole and we can all only fight it for so long before you got to leave the war to someone else, y’get me? And personally, I think it’s high time you start worryin’ about what Mac needs and wants for himself for a change. Now if you decide goin’ back to the field is something you want, I can guarantee you they’re gonna take you back before the ink has time to dry on a contract. You’re special stuff Mac, everybody knows it, and you’ve made a world of difference a few hundred times over over the years. But at the end of the day, badassery aside, Mac, you’re still just one man and so am I. Haven’t we given enough? Can’t it be our turn to rest now? What good is all this savin’ the world business if we don’t get to enjoy it?”

Mac is watching Jack with a wide-eyed expression, the light bulb is on and the hamster wheel is moving, but Jack doesn’t know what he’s thinking. He feels how his voice wants to shake, tight with emotion, so on a softer note, he adds.

“All that matters to me is that you’re happy, whatever you choose. You deserve a life that’s yours and that’s all I’ve ever wanted for you, okay?”

Jack is picking at one of his kebabs, waiting to see what Mac’s going to say, when Mac stands abruptly. He looks up as Mac rounds the small table and he stands just as Mac yanks him by his shirt collar up to him. Mac wraps his arm around Jack’s neck and presses his face in against Jack’s cheek, the faintest tremors under his skin as he clings to him.

“Jack, I love you. I just... god I love you so much.” Mac says breathlessly, and Jack feels how Mac’s stump presses against his ribs, trying to hug the best he can. Jack thankfully has big enough hugs for both of them and he encircles Mac’s middle with his own arms, squeezing tight.

“I love you too.“

After finishing dinner, they prepare for bed, an early day on the way. They have some minor repairs to perform on the catamaran while the tide is in and Mac had promised to go help finish the barn tomorrow. Falling asleep beside each other is easy and doesn’t take long with the sound of the ocean and wind caressing the bungalow like a lullaby.

So it goes, the world spins on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed my story. ❤️


End file.
